


Making Movies in Bolivia

by misura



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Background Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Clay and Roque make a porno. As you do.





	Making Movies in Bolivia

**Author's Note:**

> Max said it, I just rolled with it for a bit?

"It's money," Clay said.

Roque sighed. "Fine."

 

It took Jensen about fifteen minutes to track down a copy of the script on-line. It would probably take him at least three times as long to stop talking about it, but then, it wasn't as if Clay's pride couldn't take a couple of extra blows.

" 'Clay is the new guy in Captain Smith's unit of elite soldiers. His sullen attitude and lethal precision shooting draw the attention of his Captain, who decides to simultaneously reward Clay for a mission well done and punish him for his bad attitude'."

"I think you forgot 'rugged good looks'."

"It's a movie, Clay, not a wish-fulfillment fantasy," said Roque.

"So why do they call this thing 'Clay and his Unit'? Why not 'Clay and his Captain'?"

Clay shrugged. "Maybe they plan on making a sequel, if this one does well."

 

The movie set looked slightly better than Clay had expected.

On the other hand, Roque's 'I'm about to fuck you now' face bore a striking resemblance to his 'I'm about to fuck you up now (with this really big knife I have)' face. Or possibly the other way around.

It was a little distracting.

"Did you even read the script they sent us?" Roque asked after they'd been instructed to 'take five' after 'take seven'. (Movie terminology: not abundantly clear.)

"I know that after round one, I'm supposed to 'come reluctantly' and then at the end of round two, I 'climax enthusiastically'." Clay wasn't sure what he'd been supposed to do with that information, but he'd filed it away and decided to deal with things as they happened.

Possibly, his ability to make snap decisions in life-or-death situations was less useful when it came to starring in a porno than he'd thought.

Roque looked disgusted.

"Also, there's moaning." Clay wished Roque had been a bit more the supportive type, in the 'willing to overlook and embrace your flaws' sense of the word, rather than the 'damn good to have on your side in a fight' one. "And maybe a couple of 'no, don't, I don't like to be touched there'. Followed by moaning." On further reflection, 'winging it' had definitely not been the best plan. "And then some stuff like 'more', 'harder', 'stop', 'don't stop'. That sort of thing."

"I loathe you with every muscle in my body," Roque said, which didn't sound good, but then he stalked off to talk to the director (the _female_ director, even) so Clay figured that they were okay.

 

Jensen looked smug. Cougar looked like a man who wears a hat very well.

" 'Crazy American Dude Sings a Song and Does a Little Dance'," Roque read.

"I was inspired by your line about how Clay should properly respect you," Jensen said. "With which I am in complete agreement, by the way. I mean, wow."

Cougar's hat jerked slightly. Clay told himself that it would be very unprofessional to start writing porno scripts in his head involving men under his command. ('Jealous sniper shows hacker boyfriend the follies of thinking size is more important than skill'. Which was not to say that Roque didn't have skill, too.)

"They're giving me one cent per view."

Clay glanced at the lower corner of the screen. "That's a nice bit of money."

"Only it turns out that dead men don't have bank accounts."

"Ah." Clay and Roque had been paid cash. Local currency, small bills.

"So I'm thinking for my next video, I'll set up things a little differently."

"Good idea."

Jensen nodded and went back to refreshing the hit count, humming some Aretha under his breath.

 

"This new script - I don't know."

"I think it's good," Roque said. "You know, on an emotional level."

"You betray the unit, I track you down, we have fight-slash-hate sex the first time and then for an encore, there's sweet and tender love-making while we reconfirm our love for one another?"

"Something for everyone."

"You're on top both times. And I cry. A lot. Sad tears, angry tears, happy tears. Do you even know when I actually cried for the last time?"

"Your dad's funeral. Five - no, six years ago."

"I told you it was raining."

Roque looked pained. "Clay, it was six years ago. He was your dad. Let it go. Stop pretending you're this tough guy. We both know you're a marshmallow."

"Marshmallows don't cry and neither did I."

"Fine. Forget it."

 

Clay suspected it had only been a matter of time, really.

"So basically, it's 'Pimp My Ride, Bolivia edition'," Jensen said, while Pooch tried not to look too happy and failed miserably. (It was good to see him smile. What with the whole Jolene situation, Pooch hadn't quite been his usual upbeat self recently.) "Except, you know, classier."

"Classier than 'Pimp My Ride'." Was that a high bar to clear? Clay couldn't quite decide.

"I'm just keeping it practical," Pooch said. "I mean, who wants a video system in their car? Or a Nintendo?"

Clay didn't need to sneak a glance at Jensen to know the answer to that last one.

"Well, good job." Terrible, horrible, no-good job at staying off and/or under the radar, but then, you couldn't have everything. They'd needed some means of generating income.

Now all they needed was a lead on where to find Max, and they'd be back in business.


End file.
